Something moves above me.
April?
I slam my hands on the coffin lid once more.
“Help!” I yell, my voice scratchy.
The jingle of bells.
The taunting giggle.
The thud of gravel falling atop the coffin lid.
Another.
And another.
As the clown buries me alive.
I can see him. Kyle.
In a cave just beyond the lake.
Between the two of us, the lake swarms and froths with sharks. Every second, the island I’m on sinks just a little deeper. Water laps up to my ankles. Smaller sharks—the size of a goldfish—swim past my toes. They haven’t bitten me. Yet.
The sharks are hungrier now—some snap at the surface with jaws the size of cars. Others thrash and roil under the water, sending up great waves and the growling crunch of their teeth.
Kyle looks hurt. He crouches on the floor with his hands clasped to his ears. I can’t hear him, but I can see his mouth open, screaming at nothing. No, screaming at something. Something I can’t see, just beyond the cave’s entrance.
Somewhere, I know, April is also facing her fear. So is Deshaun. So is Caroline.
“Just stay out of the water,” I whisper to myself sarcastically.
I stare at the lake. It seems to spread farther with every passing moment. I remember the pool. The way it stretched to infinity. The way the horizon pulled me back into the waiting jaws of the shark.
Deshaun said we needed to face our fears. Stand up to them.
He said they couldn’t really hurt us—even if he’d been hurt by his.
But he’s right.
I live in Iowa.
I have no reason to be scared of sharks. I’ve never seen one in real life. I never will see one either. This is all in my head. My overactive imagination, my mom would say.
This.
Isn’t.
Real.
I swallow down the fear that clogs my throat. Try to steady the furious beat of my heart.
I have to save my friends. I have to help them.
I have to face my fears.
Slowly, cautiously, I step one foot deeper into the water.
The sharks still roil in the waves, circling my sinking island.
I close my eyes.
“This is so stupid,” I tell myself in a squeak. I don’t know if I mean walking into a shark-infested lake, or fearing sharks at all.
With my eyes still closed, with all my focus on getting to Kyle on the other side, I take another step. This time, my foot doesn’t meet ground. I slip off the edge of the island; freezing water sloshes up over my shoulders.
I bite hard on my lips, force my chattering mouth to stay shut as I tread water.
It’s all in your head. It’s all in your head. There aren’t any sharks in Iowa. There aren’t any—
Something cold and smooth the size of a bathtub rubs against my thigh.
I can’t help it. I yelp.
“It’s not a shark,” I whisper through chattering teeth. “It’s not a real shark.”
Another not-shark brushes my other side. Or maybe it’s the same one, sizing me up, wondering if I will make a good dinner.
I push the thought aside.
I focus instead on the mental image of my friends. Needing my help. Needing me to face this, so I can help them face their fears.
Keeping my eyes closed, I swim.
With every stroke I expect to feel the crush of teeth on a limb—a shark ripping off an arm, nabbing my foot and pulling me underwater. They slide against me instead, reminding me they are there. I can hear them chomping at air in the distance, can feel the waves from their fins slicing the water just out of reach.
But I don’t stop, and the sharks don’t bite, and after a while I am so focused on getting to my friends that I barely notice the sharks at all.
My friends are more important.
You can do this, Andres. You can do this.
I swim, and the sharks circle me, and I force myself to stop worrying. I am facing my fear. I am not letting them stop me.
My foot touches land.
I start walking. Sloshing through the waves, brushing aside smaller sharks, my eyes squeezed tight because I still don’t want to see them, still don’t want to believe what I’ve done.
When I am fully out of the water, I open my eyes and let out a cry of relief.
I did it!
I faced the sharks.
The tunnel leading to Kyle is right in front of me.
And when I turn around to face the lake, to shout out that I conquered my fears, I am met with a tunnel that stretches back up into darkness.
The lake is no longer there.
I brush my clothes.
My dry clothes.
Maybe the lake was never there in the first place.
“Worthless.”
“Unwanted.”
“You deserve to be punished.”
“Nobody will love you.”
“Forever alone.”
“Forever alone.”
“Give in.”
“Give in.”
“Give in.”
“Kyle!”
No, no. Please. Not him too.
“Kyle!” Andres’s voice comes again.
I shake my head.
“No,” I say.
The serpents twine tighter around me. Dragging me down. Filling my veins with their poison.
My father’s words echo in my ears, drowning out everything, a constant hiss plaguing my thoughts. He is right. I am worthless. I deserve to be hurt. I shouldn’t fight it anymore.
“You have to fight!” someone calls out. Andres. It sounds like Andres. But no, Andres isn’t here. Can’t be.
He doesn’t like me.
No one likes me.
“Please, Kyle! Fight it off. This isn’t real! None of it is real. It’s all in your head!”
But he doesn’t know the truth. This is real. None of this is in my head.
I’m only just now accepting that this is the reality I deserve.
“Fight it, Kyle! For me. For your friends! Think of Deshaun, Kyle. He needs you right now. He needs you to be strong.”
“No, no,” I say, but I don’t know who I’m saying it to.
Over the hissing of serpents and crash of my father’s words, I hear footsteps coming close. A hand on my shoulder.
“Fight, Kyle. Come on. Open your eyes. It’s me.”
I don’t want to open my eyes. Because this can’t be Andres. This is just another trick. Another trick by my father. To make me hurt. To prove he will always win.
“Come on, Kyle. Please.”
It’s that word that does it.
My dad never says please. Never.
I open my eyes, expecting the worst.
And Andres is there. Kneeling before me.
Snakes still slither on the floor around us. But they don’t cover me. They don’t cover him.
“Andres?” I say.
He smiles. “Yes. I just swam across a lake of sharks to get to you. You have to fight this.”
“I can’t,” I say. I can see my father still sitting behind Andres. How does Andres not see him? How does he not see the snakes? “He’s too strong. My dad … he’s right, Andres. He’s right. I’m broken. I’m worthless.”
I close my eyes again. Andres doesn’t let go.
“You’re not. I promise you, you’re not. You have to face him. You have to believe in yourself. Like I do. Did you hear me before? I swam through sharks for you.”
I squeeze my eyes shut.
He believes in me.
He believes in me.
“He lies,” hisses my father. “You are nothing. You will always be nothing. No one cares about you.”
“You’re wrong,” I say. My voice is gravelly, rough, but I steel my words. “I’m not nothing. I do have friends. Friends who care. Friends who are nothing like you!”
I open my eyes.
The snakes slither away from me. Retreating. Swarming back toward my father.
I stand on shaky legs. Andres helps me up. I stare down my father and say the words I’ve wanted to say for so long.
“You’re a monster. You are the one who’s broken. You are the one who’s unloved. I will never be like you. Do you hear me? I am worthwhile. I am strong. And I am not afraid of you!”
I yell the last words, so loud my voice catches.
Serpents twist and twine over my dad’s body, as if they’re trying to escape back into him, as if they are scared of me.
“I’m not going to let you hurt me anymore,” I say. “Never. Again!”
My dad’s eyes flash. Bright blue. And when I blink, just for a second, he looks like the clown.
Then he is gone.
I stand there, panting for a long time, leaning heavily against Andres.
“Thank you,” I finally say.
He just squeezes my arm.
“Don’t mention it. You okay?”
I nod. For once, I actually mean it.
“Good,” he says. “Because we still have to find the others. I only hope it’s not too late.”
Everyone is laughing. Laughing and calling me names. Fat. Stupid. Lazy. Slow.
Their words blend together, drown out everything, become an oceanic wave that pulls me under, steals my breath. I can’t breathe. I hear them all—the people who I thought were my friends, the people who I thought would like me. Andres and Kyle. Caroline. Deshaun.
Deshaun.
Distantly, I remember what Deshaun said, way before we stepped foot in this cursed place.
We’ll have to face our fears.
I can see him, behind my eyes.
Face my fears.
I thought I was afraid of the clown. And I am.
But now I realize I was most afraid of this—of being made fun of, of having everyone I know turn against me.
This is worse than the clown.
This must be my biggest fear.
The moment I think that, I feel better. Because if this is the worst situation, if this is what I’m truly afraid of, well … I’m surviving.
I open my eyes. Deshaun stares back with his blank expression, his pallid skin. It’s not Deshaun at all.
“You’re not real,” I say. “None of you are.”
I push myself to standing and look around at my classmates. No, not my classmates—what I fear of my classmates. The fear that they won’t like me. They’ll make fun of me. They’ll try to hurt me. Just like they did, all those years ago.
Well, I’m done being hurt.
I have real friends. Real friends who care about me. Who are out there fighting their own fears. And I’m not going to let them down by giving in to mine.
“You can’t hurt me,” I say to Deshaun. “You can’t hurt me, because you aren’t real.”
Instantly, he vanishes, disintegrating like ash in the wind.
They all vanish.
And there, in front of me, standing amid the dust, is the clown.
He is no longer smiling.
His face is twisted into a snarling frown.
“Did you really think it would be that easy?” he growls. “Did you really think you could defeat me like that?”
The smile comes back, but it is sinister this time. It chills me more than anything else he’s done.
“I still have your friends,” he says. “And if you don’t gather them soon, you will all be trapped down here. With me. Forever.”
He opens his mouth wide. Wider than his head. So wide it swallows up the sky. His teeth are fangs. Silver and sharp.
And then, with a terrifying roar, he swallows me whole.
I run through the dark, fleeing the wailing and scraping hands of the ghosts.
They are close. So close.
My heart hammers in my ears, and my lungs burn, and I can’t see anything, nothing at all, and that is worse than seeing. That is the true horror of ghosts—you can never see what you’re up against. You only know that they are there. Chasing you. Waiting to rip you apart. I’m never going to get out of here. This time, they won’t vanish with the rising sun. They will trap me here.
Forever.
Giggling behind me, right by my ear.
I turn.
Catch the flash of blue eyes, razor-sharp teeth.
I trip.
And smash into a monster.
“Hey!” the monster yells.
No, not a monster.
“April?” I ask.
Her face is illuminated from the light of her cell phone.
“Deshaun!” I swear she blushes. “What—”
“We have to get out of here!” I interrupt. “The ghosts. We have to get away from them. We have to—”
“Deshaun, it’s okay. I’m here. You were right. You were right. We have to face our fears. We have to. Otherwise we aren’t getting out of here.”
“You don’t understand,” I say. “I was wrong. I was so wrong. I tried to face my fears before and I just saw …”
I choke. I can’t tell her what I saw. All of my friends in pain. All of them terrified. All because of me. Because I had been wrong.
“You weren’t wrong,” she says. She squeezes my shoulder. “I faced my fears, and I found you. We can do this, Deshaun. You just have to be brave.”
Her hand falls from my shoulder and clasps my hand.
“You have to face them.”
I nod.
And even though it’s the last thing I want to do, I turn around and face the ghosts.
I don’t see them. That’s the worst part.
The light in April’s hand goes out, and we are both plunged into darkness.
“It’s okay,” April says, her voice barely cutting through the gloom, even though she is walking right beside me. She squeezes. “We’re okay. You’re doing great.”
We walk, and I hear them crying out. The ghosts.
Just like that night in the graveyard.
They cry out in pain, in agony. They yell my name. They tell me I will never escape. I will always be alone. Just like they are.
But I’m not alone.
I’ve never been alone.
It’s the ghosts who have been alone this entire time. Not me. I’ve always had friends. I’ve always been loved.
I’ve always had a way out of the darkness.
April doesn’t let go.
“You’re doing it,” she says.
And she’s right. The howling grows weaker.
With every step, the light grows brighter.
Until the tunnel illuminates fully, and I see that we aren’t in a graveyard at all. Just a long, twisting cave, with a light flickering at the end.
Distantly, I hear another wail. This one, I know, is human.
April hears it too.
“Caroline,” she whispers, her eyes wide.
She doesn’t let go of my hand; together, we run.
Deshaun and I rush into the cavern, nearly slamming into Andres and Kyle as they enter from another tunnel.
What we see is enough to make me consider turning around and running the other way.
The cavern is enormous and ringed with lanterns with guttering red and orange flames that cast terrifying shadows on the ceiling. Almost as terrifying as the clown, larger than life, standing on the far end in his shiny satin outfit, a shovel held in his dirty, gloved hands.
Almost as terrifying as the screams coming out of the open grave at his feet.
Caroline.
“It’s too late for her,” the clown jeers. “But not too late for you. I’ll give you a choice. Leave her here with me, and I will let you go. You never liked her, anyway. She was mean to you. To all of you. You know your lives would be better off without her.”
I look to the others.
The clown’s words are harsh, but the worst part is knowing that they are all things I thought myself. But that was before. Before I knew why she was hurting. Before I knew what had made her s
o mean. A part of me worries that the others will agree with the clown. That they will turn around and leave me here to save the one girl I never thought I’d want or have to save.
Instead, they take a step forward. We all do.
“No,” I say. “We aren’t leaving without her.”
The clown’s face switches to anger, and then to glee, in the space of a heartbeat. His mouth curls into a venomous smile.
“Then you aren’t leaving at all,” he growls.
He drops the shovel.
“I will devour you. One. By. One.”
He lifts a finger and points it
straight
at
me.
“And I will start with you.”
The clown lunges.
Everyone sparks into action at once.
Kyle and Andres run to the side while Deshaun leaps in front of me. I barely have time to wonder if Kyle and Andres are leaving before the clown is on top of Deshaun, snarling and hissing like a feral dog. The clown’s teeth are long and snakelike, its mouth so huge it’s grotesque, and its gloved hands have turned into claws.
Deshaun cries out in fear and pain as he struggles against the clown. I leap to his aid, wrapping my arms around the clown’s neck and trying to pry it off. It thrashes against me, trying to throw me.
“Let him go!” I yell. “It’s me you want!”
The clown doesn’t answer, just snarls loudly and tosses me to the side.
I grunt in pain, stars exploding across my vision as the breath leaves my lungs. I don’t lie there, though. I push myself up to standing, ignoring the pain in my side, and jump back toward the clown. I grab on to his arm as he pulls back to claw at Deshaun.
“Over here!” Andres calls. “April, bring him here!”
I glance over my shoulder, briefly, and see that the boys haven’t run away after all. They stand by the grave, covered in dirt. And they have Caroline.
The grave.
That’s it!
I yell out as I struggle with the clown, pulling him back and off of Deshaun. The boys are there in a heartbeat, each grabbing one of the clown’s limbs.
The clown roars in anger, making the entire cave shake and the lights flicker.
Together, the three of us drag the clown back to the grave. Deshaun hobbles to his feet and stares at us, then comes to my side and grabs the clown’s free leg, yanking him back.
The Fear Zone Page 13